Journal Entries for May 25-28, 2004 on signing the Protocols between the Sudanese Government and the SPLM

May 25: It appears that "peace" is at hand, or to be more exact, that the final three pieces of the "general framework agreement" will be signed tomorrow morning in Kenya. The honchos told Powell this on Sunday when he called and the gang is gathering in Kenya. This is actually still a step or two from the final peace agreement & comprehensive ceasefire but it is a big hurdle passed, provided it happens. With Darfur still a problem, we won't do much in response....

Been taking it easy the last few days, even sunning myself in my garden. Following closely the government's new and improved approach to Darfur. Will have lunch here at home with the security/intell chief [note: Salah Gosh*] on Thursday. But then plan on smoking a peace cigar (in lieu of pipe) Friday on the shore of the Blue Nile and then cruising into our version of the Memorial Day weekend.

May 27: Yesterday, the Sudan government and the SPLM finally signed agreements on the last part of the framework for peace. It took a long time and there are still a few steps to go before a final agreement. In fact, I spent the day thinking about the remaining steps and also about the conflict still going on in Darfur. Didn't think to celebrate or anything. (Though I did tell the staff today -- it happened to be the day of our Embassy awards ceremony** -- that they could be proud of their efforts that contributed to peace for their country.)

On the way home, I passed a large gathering in the center of town. Stopped to take a look. It was an SPLM rally of celebration for peace. When they realized the American Charge was there, they invited me up to speak to the crowd and started chanting pro-USA slogans. The crowd was mostly southerners, a couple of hundred, and mostly students. The rally was organized by the SPLM Youth. The group had been underground until recently. I met the leaders when they declared their group openly several weeks ago. The leaders were earnest young men with Western suits. We all were sweating. I spoke briefly about the US support for southerners to be treated justly and equally and about continuing to work for a peaceful, democratic and united Sudan. They cheered. It only hit me then that for many people, the signing yesterday means peace. They want peace. They want to live normally and many just want to go home.

I had forgotten that all this diplomacy -- words, threats, promises, lies, truths, half-truths, hypocrisies, feints, etc -- was about something very real to lots of people, peace.

May 28: Sometime this afternoon while I was working in the office, a haboob came in. The skies are cloudy and the city is covered in a dust cloud. From inside my air conditioned house, it almost seems like dusk on a fall day. Except that it's well over a 100 outside and the weak light coming in through the windows casts a strange orange glow on everything. Not unpleasant as long as the sand doesn't clog the AC.

Off soon to have drinks with the Norwegian Charge and the guy who got us the pig. Imagine me sitting somewhere in an orange glow drinking something stiff and chatting about pork. When I've sunk deep enough into that reality, I'll go to the home of the assistant president for in-depth political analysis of post-peace agreement. He always has tasty sweets and good coffee to make up for the lack of booze. Finally, it'll be the Ethiopian Embassy to celebrate the 13th anniversary of the overthrow of the previous government. Probably no booze there either but by then I won't need any. Reality here is heady enough.

Spoke thrice with the Foreign Minister in the last 20 hours. On Darfur. Our relations may spike upwards with the peace signing.

Note: * The first time I met one-on-one with Gosh, he put his hand on my knee and informed me that he could have me killed and get away with it.  Indeed, in 1973 the US Ambassador and his deputy were assassinated by Black September folks never caught.

 ** A photo from our awards ceremony:

 

From My Journal for April 23, 2004: Back From Leave

Went to work today to start digging out of some 300 plus emails (classified and un). But this afternoon, I went to the Embassy picnic for a bit. Completely organized by our local employees. Location,a farm on the Blue Nile. On the way there, my caravan of SUV plus follow-car came up behind a heard of goats completely blocking the dirt road. We all walked slowly for several minutes until the sheep sort of wandered into a field for some grass. I was listening to music and enjoying looking at all the colors and designs sheep come in. Yep, back in Sudan.

The picnic was quite nice. Was handed plates of food and played a game of volleyball. With a cool breeze from the river, it was bearable despite being way over 100. Volley ball on the shores of the Nile. Yep, back in Sudan.

Journal Entry for March 5, 2000: Notes from a Trip Down the Nile

Just finished unloading pictures (see below) from my Nile Trip. Was really incredible. I joined for three days the First Nile Expedition. The expedition, headed by Pasquale Scaturro and with Gordon Brown, left the source of the Blue Nile high in Ethiopia on Xmas Day 2003 for the first trip all the way to the mouth of the Nile in Alexandria Egypt. (The Blue Nile carries 85% of the water of the Nile.) While going down the river, they were taking part in making an IMAX film. The Expedition arrived in Khartoum on February 16. After two weeks of rest and re-stocking, plus filming at some sites near Khartoum, they left on Monday (the 1^st) to begin the second half of their journey and I went with them. I spent three days and two nights traveling about 210 kilometers to the next big town downriver, Shendi.

Being on the Nile was a real trip. Long ago, the wildlife disappeared from the river. There are no hippos or crocs. Competition with the people was just too intense. That’s because the Nile creates a thin strip of life through the desert. (Every drop of water we went by fell as rain hundreds of miles upstream in Ethiopia and Central Africa.) We passed 100’s of small water pumps lifting water from the river up to the fields on the flood plains. Fields of sorghum, groves of date palms, fields of tomatoes and other produce are everywhere that people can get to. All along the shore, men in their white jellabiyas, women in brightly colored clothes, bashful girls and playing children waved or ran or asked us – mostly in hand signals – who we were and where we were going. Despite that lack of big animals, the Nile reminded me of the Zambezi except usually bigger. It meandered along sometimes seeming more like a big lake with no end rather than a stream rushing to get anywhere. We used two rafts that were necessary for running the upstream rapids. Each had an outboard motor at the back that was connected to a long handle that we used to steer. I was allowed to take the “wheel” and spent many outstanding hours guiding us through the river. Simply no way to describe how cool that felt. The first great river that man ever traveled on over a million years ago and I was on it.

The wind blew most of the time and until we reached the deep desert just south of Shendi, it blew cool and comfortable. The water was muddy and lots of things floated in it, including dead cows, goats and donkeys. The guys washed in the river and our two Sudanese helpers drank it. I did neither. But I did get into the river in a shallow to help reposition the motor. It was cool and probably safe enough since it was flowing rapidly. At night, we made camp on sand bars that were under the river just several weeks ago. These were lovely spots of sand and scrub. We pitched tents while dinner was cooked. I brought along some beer and cigars. We ate under the stars as the moon crawled through the sky and the water pumps went off. I slept in a tent that was mostly just a mosquito net. Both nights it was cool enough to use a cover.

By the third day, I was getting into the rhythm of the river. Waking up, breaking camp, setting out, cruising until late afternoon, making camp, eating, talking till late and then sleeping again. If I stayed another day, I might never have left. 

 

Journal Entry for February 23, 2004: A French reception

It don't take much to satisfy one's deepest longings in Khartoum. One is alcohol and the other is, how shall we say, company. Well, turns out that the French can be depended upon for one (and, for the record, who really needs the other). Went to the French Ambassador's residence this evening and scored big time. Only the second place in all of Sudan that has gin PLUS white vermouth at the same location at the same time. And to boot, olives! Taught the southern Sudanese bartenders how to mix a dry martini -- okay, it took two tries but both were worth it -- and then went over to the table with olives -- black will do -- and plunked two in. Had a GREAT time. At the end of the evening, told the ambassador that he could invite me any time he had the mixings of a martini. He said, like James Bond? I said, yes, just like James Bond.

On the way home, spoke to the Nile expedition dude. He said he'd be happy to have me accompany them when they leave Khartoum later this week. Two days on the Nile till we reach Merowe. We'll get to pass over the Sixth Cataract too. Thanks to the martinis, and therefore the French, I agreed.

Journal Entry for January 24, 2004: Trip to Juba

Just back from visiting Juba. Juba is the furthest south of Sudan’s Nile cities, about 800 miles as the bird flies and a good distance further as the river flows. Juba is also the edge of the north’s furthest reach. Juba itself is less than 100 years old but each empire that has tried to rule Sudan has put an outpost in the vicinity. The Turks, Arabs and the British have done it. The Juba area sits at the point where the White Nile enters the plains after dropping down from the Mountains of the Moon (the Rwenzori Mountains in Uganda). The empires have all wanted to control it in order to control the gateway south and north. But the outposts have always been too far from the north and too difficult to defend. Juba sits well south of the Sud, the great swamp that chokes the White Nile and has always presented an almost impassable barrier to going up river. The border between Arab Sudan and African Sudan is another 300 miles north of Juba but the government and the SPLM have fought most bitterly over this one city and the province – Equatoria – of which it is the capital.

Juba is closer to Uganda and the Congo than to Khartoum. It took our US Air Force C-12 just under three hours to get there. It is dry season but it was clouded most of the time. Rain sprinkled us as we were touring the military hospital. Juba is not really a city but a very humble and over-crowded town. The government has 12,000 troops to control the town and a bit of the surrounding territory. (They seem in no hurry to leave.) About 500,000 people live in government-controlled territory. Most of the 2 million southerners who live in the refugee camps of Khartoum come from Juba. (My cook and houseboy come from there.) Even though with a ceasefire, the countryside – fields for crops, roads – is heavily mined and unusable. In an area that could feed itself, most everything – food and fuel – has to come from Khartoum. The barges can only use the river during the dry season and the town has electricity only for the 3-4 months a year that fuel can reach it by barge. Food costs four times the monthly wage; that means those with jobs can feed themselves from their pay only one week out of the four. Then they “make do.”

The SPLM repeatedly attacked Juba because they wanted to make it their capital. But the government used all of its resources to hold it. They have several towns in the south but the SPLM controls the countryside. This stalemate has made both sides willing to try a peace agreement. The people of Juba have been so brutalized by the war and by oppression by the Arabs that they don’t believe in peace even now. I met with the auxiliary bishops of the Catholic and Episcopal Churches. They have carried alone the weight of helping their faithful survival. One told me that every day that people survived made them thankful but they could never tell about tomorrow. Imagine waking up facing the job of finding work, shelter, the next meal while also being afraid that if you complained or said or did anything that the security people didn’t like that you would disappear and never be found. And the next day, if you survived the night, the same thing all over again for 15 years. The Catholic Bishop spoke of the people having been traumatized and I could see in his eyes what it had done to him. They were glad that the US had not forgotten them. I brought my USAID person with me and we listened to them tell us that they needed help. The people of the US know nothing, nothing about all of these places where other people have nothing, not even hope.

Juba is dusty, dirty – filled with that scourge of mankind, plastic bags – and very poor. But it also is indisputably Africa. The mud huts with straw roofs, the chickens, goats and dogs running loose. The smiling faces, all the children waving and wanting us to take their pictures. That wish to have their picture taken always makes me wonder. They’ll almost certainly never see them. It is that somewhere, somehow they want their lives to be recorded, remembered by someone outside? I always feel at home in Africa. We stayed at the USAID compound, now occupied by the International Red Cross. The ICRC team includes doctors and nurses who run the local hospital. They work 18-hour days, six days a week. The Sudanese staff won’t help them because they don’t care about the local people. The Red Cross people, mostly Europeans, are the most dedicated I’ve ever met. Rough living in Juba but they all can’t stop what they are doing.

I had 15 minutes between meetings – that included with the local army commander, who gave us dinner – and took a swim [in the USAID pool]. Reminded me of Harare. In the evening I sat alone by the pool for a bit and smoked a cigar. I watched the smoke disappear into the night sky and thought of paradise.

Journal Entry for January 17, 2004

Got up early this morning after another night sleeping with the windows open. (It is gradually warming but still in lower 60s during night.) Went down to the shore of the Blue Nile to take a waterbus across to Tuti Island. Tuti sits in the middle of the conjunction of the Blue and White Niles. Until 20 years ago, the three Arab tribes that lived there didn't let anyone visit their island, not even other Sudanese. It is easy to understand why. In the middle of a desert, they have great soil (silt carried down the Nile) and a steady supply of water. They grow fruits, vegetables and sorghum year round. They only "import" from Khartoum cooking and motor oil and a few other things like softdrinks. They even make their own bricks from river mud, dung and Nile water. (I saw several places where people were making bricks by hand as they would have thousands of years ago. One of them appeared drunk, as I might well be too making bricks all day. Expert brick makers can make up to $8 a day.)

They now let people onto their island and there are a large number of southern and western Sudanese that do much of the labor. I walked around with my bodyguard Hashim. He had scouted ahead and led me across the whole place. The sun was a winter sun but intense nevertheless. We walked for fours hours steady. I returned beat and still am. But I had to do an interview with the editor of a local Arabic newspaper this afternoon. He asked me questions for 1 1/2 hours. He started by telling me be was invited to be with the US Marines in Lebanon many years ago and ended by assuring me he likes America. We'll see what he does with my answers.

Note:  I had spent the holidays back home with my family and returned after the New Year.